


The Bishop Captures the Rook

by The Author (Yours_The_Author)



Series: Feathered Friends [1]
Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: Azran Legacy Spoilers, Birds, But I'll Get Better, Don't worry, Feathered Friends, In Reference to their UK Names, It's More Friendship than Romance in this One, Leon Bronev (Mentioned) - Freeform, M/M, Macaw's Last Name is Rook, Robin's Last Name is Bishop, Targent, These Two Need More Content, Two-Man Group Program, workplace shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:22:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25391575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yours_The_Author/pseuds/The%20Author
Summary: Macaw Rook is competent and capable; making him the perfect candidate for the two-man group program at Targent. He is paired with Robin Bishop, and he's... not actually the weirdest man Targent ever hired. The day is almost over, so the two have to make it out of the building to get to their quarters. Will Macaw survive Robin's unusual presence and partnership?
Relationships: Macaw/Robin (Professor Layton)
Series: Feathered Friends [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1838968
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	The Bishop Captures the Rook

**Author's Note:**

> SPOILERS FOR AZRAN LEGACY  
> -  
> Me: *Remembers the Targent boys, Macaw and Robin*  
> -  
> Me: Ah, yes.  
> -  
> Me: They're so in love.  
> -  
> Me: Is there any content for them?  
> -  
> Me: *Looks them up on Google Images and barely finds anything*  
> -  
> Me: Fine, I'll do it myself.  
> -  
> Be prepared for a few of these coming up; I want sweet fluff and I will make it myself since no one else will. Sweet, fluffy romance.  
> -  
> Oh, and a quick thing: in the UK version of Azran Legacy, Robin is called Bishop and Macaw is Rook. Hence, they're probably the only ones in Targent to have last names besides Bronev. Not that he shows up here; he's very vaguely mentioned.  
> -  
> Also, this technically the first part in a series, but I don't think it'll be necessary to read them in order, since there likely won't be one. I'll let you know if that changes.  
> -  
> Enjoy!

“Macaw Rook.”

The tall, wiry man with a long nose looked up at the sound of his name. Another tall and thin man stood in the doorway of the office. A few other people in black uniforms glanced up before returning to whatever they were doing beforehand. The new man had messy white-blond hair, an orange scarf around his neck, and a nasty looking scar across his nose. No one really wanted to know where he could have gotten that scar, but rumors often mentioned the boss’s sudden temper.

Macaw Rook set down the magazine he’d been reading and stood at attention, awaiting instruction. The man with the scar was the boss’s right-hand man, known only as Swift. His temper was more apparent than the boss’s, but as long as you were competent and actually did your job, he’d ignore you unless you were needed. Macaw was one of those people.

Swift gestured with his head for Macaw to follow him, and they walked out of the office. The halls in this building were nicer than most of the buildings in The Nest in general, but there were still holes in the walls, cracked windows, and exposed structural bracing to be seen all over. Macaw waited for Swift to speak first.

“You’ve been assigned Robin Bishop as your partner. He’s a newer recruit, so we figured someone with your competency would help him become equally capable.” Swift glanced at Macaw as he said this, and Macaw hummed in acknowledgement.

Competent and capable. Those two words were practically his middle name in this group, and he took great pride in it. He couldn’t help but feel it was ridiculous that he was one of the few field soldiers to actually have those skills on his resume. Most of the others with his rank got distracted easily by the strangest things. Macaw sometimes wondered if it was only a matter of time before he found something to distract him the way the others were. He hoped that moment wouldn’t come; being considered actually decent at his job got him some perks, like getting the second-to-last cup of tea in the first batch, so that he wasn’t obligated to make a new pot for the rest of the people of lower ranks.

Swift and Macaw stopped in front of a door at the end of one of the many identical halls. This was standard procedure for soon-to-be-partnered recruits: being left alone in a room with a weakly flickering lightbulb as the only light source, in full uniform and nothing to do but stand and await your new partner. Macaw figured it was a sort intimidation tactic; a way of letting the new guy know “there’s no going back.”

Swift walked into the room without knocking, and there was a yelp of surprise. _Hoo boy,_ Macaw thought.

“At attention, Robin Bishop,” Swift ordered.

Macaw waited outside (also a standard procedure, from what he heard from other two-men groups) and listened to the sound of frantically skittering footsteps that eventually stopped, followed by a quivering “yes, sir!”

“Your assigned partner is Macaw Rook. He’s one of our better men, so if I hear that you’re slowing him down, it won’t end well for you.”

“Y-yes, sir!”

“Good. You may enter now, Rook.”

Macaw adjusted his sunglasses quickly and took a silent breath before striding coolly into the room. He wasn’t entirely sure what to expect, but considering the kinds of people that Targent was willing to hire, this man wasn’t the strangest he’d seen.

Robin Bishop was Macaw’s near opposite, short and stocky rather than tall and thin. While Macaw let his messy brown hair hang down his neck, Bishop had his blonde hair neatly combed and tucked under his hat. Macaw had sunglasses that, though not actually pointy, added to his sharp look. Bishop had perfectly circular sunglasses that looked like something some sort of soloist musician would wear, rather than a soldier on a quest for information. The look on Bishop’s face was one of awe and wonder, barely suppressed under a professional frown.

_He’s like a dumpy little egg,_ Macaw quipped in his thoughts, _or maybe a potato with a face on it._ He approached Bishop and held out his hand for him to shake.

Bishop looked blankly at him. It was silent for a solid two seconds before Swift cleared his throat loudly. Bishop jumped wildly, flailing his arms a bit before quickly taking Macaw’s hand. “I’m looking forward to working with you!” He said quickly.

“Likewise,” Macaw said out of politeness. He turned to Swift and asked, “is that all, sir?”

Swift was halfway out the door already. “That will be all,” was all he said before disappearing down the hall.

Macaw waited for a moment before heading out after him, out of respectful politeness. He was about to take his second step when something kept him in place. He looked behind him. Bishop was still holding his hand. Macaw pulled away slightly, but he was not released. “Bishop, you can let go now,” he said.

“Call me Robin!” Bishop—er, _Robin_ , no longer had the professional frown and was looking up at Macaw as if he had discovered the Azran Legacy himself.

“…Robin, you can let go now,” he repeated.

“Okay!” Robin let go of his hand and bounced on his heels.

_Like a jumping bean,_ Macaw concluded before gesturing to the door. Robin waited, clearly thinking Macaw would lead. Macaw turned to go out the door, but just as he stepped through the threshold, Robin did the same, effectively trapping them between the wooden frame and each other. “Robin—!” He grunted, trying to pull himself out of the room. Robin was doing the same, seemingly unaware of how he was the cause of this mess. After a few seconds of grunting, they popped into the hall. Macaw rubbed his back before turning to stare at Robin. “Robin, I will throw you out a window.” He didn’t intend to; he was just frustrated.

“I could do it for you,” Robin offered.

“Please don’t.” Macaw pinched his brow before gesturing the way he and Swift had come. Luckily, the hall was wide enough that the likelihood of a repeat of their fiasco was not high.

Things were mostly quiet as they walked back to the office Macaw had been waiting in. The only sound was their footsteps; Macaw’s, steady and even; Robin’s, skittery and random as he looked around the hall with that same look of awe on his face. Macaw wasn’t sure what was so fascinating about the hall, but apparently it was the most interesting thing Robin had seen in a while. Maybe standing in a dim room for a few hours had worked _too_ well in keeping him still.

Robin was practically bouncing off the walls, and if Macaw didn’t put a stop to it, he’d either wind up with a headache or without a partner, especially if Swift walked by. He opened his mouth to start a conversation. “So—”

“Why did you sign up for the two-man group program?” Robin interrupted. Apparently, he had simply been waiting for the indication that it was okay to speak.

Macaw sighed, but decided to indulge. _Anything_ to keep the other man from falling through a weak spot in the floor with how much he was wandering. “I was actually asked to participate.”

“Asked? Not ordered?”

“Asked, and not ordered,” Macaw confirmed.

“Wow…” Robin breathed, “imagine that…”

Robin’s wonderment was so absurd, Macaw actually had to hold back a breath of laughter. “If you establish a reputation of following orders—competently, of course—then such things may be open to you.”

“Wow…” Robin said again. Then, “That’ll probably never happen.”

“No?” Macaw was taken aback.

“Probably not.”

“That’s…” Macaw hadn’t expected this sudden pessimistic outlook from a person like this. He almost said “depressingly pessimistic, even for _our_ lot in life”, but then he realized that would probably go over Robin’s head. “…a quitter’s attitude.” What was he, a sports coach?

It seemed to do the trick, though. “You’re right!” Robin declared. “Quitters aren’t winners! And I want to be a winner!”

“Exactly,” Macaw agreed. _What have I gotten myself into?_

“Are we there yet?” Macaw stopped short, having nearly walked past the office he had been waiting in.

“A-ah, we’ll make a quick stop in here first. Just need to pick something up.” He walked into the room and made a beeline for the magazine he’d been reading. He reached to pick it up—

“Hi! I’m Robin!”

_I’m going to throw myself out a window._ Macaw picked up the magazine and turned to see Robin waving excitedly at the other Targent members in the room. Most looked at the new member with annoyance, but a few nodded at him with disinterest.

Robin bounced up to him. “Hi! I’m Robin!”

“Robin, we’re partners; _I already know you,”_ Macaw said in exasperation.

“ _That’s_ Rook’s partner?” Someone said incredulously.

“That’ll be fun to watch,” another agreed.

“Who do you think’ll get in trouble first?”

“Did you hear Rook call him by his first name?”

“Unnecessary drama isn’t allowed,” Macaw reminded them loudly. The two made faces at him before returning to their business. Macaw sighed and headed back out the door, Robin following after him.

It took a few minutes of walking to the elevator for Macaw to realize that it was suddenly quieter than before. Robin still walked unevenly, but his strides were more restrained, almost forcibly so. His expression was also forcibly professional, but Macaw could tell he was desperately trying not to look at everything they passed. By the time Macaw hit the button to summon the elevator, it looked like Robin was going to explode. Macaw didn’t want his partner to explode; not only because it would be a figurative and possibly literal mess on his end, but also because it made him uncomfortable to see his partner uncomfortable. Perhaps this was the sign of a good partnership, like he heard someone in the program saying they hoped would happen to them.

“You know—” he stiffened awkwardly when Robin turned his full attention onto him. “…You should ignore those guys. They like picking on new people, but honestly, they’re not any better just because they’ve been here longer than you. I can tell that you have respect for others; in a strange, strange way—”

“THANK YOU!” Robin shouted, and Macaw nearly fell over. Robin began doing what appeared to be some sort of interpretive dance, arms waving wilding above his head and feet skittering to and fro. “I’m so tired of people not taking me seriously! I mean, sure, it’s part of my quirky character trope to act a little a fool, but there’s more to my character than that!”

_You are most definitely a character,_ Macaw quipped internally. “No one is perfect,” he agreed, “but, ah, don’t say that about the boss. You’ll probably get smacked.”

“Got it!” Robin finally calmed down. He didn’t seem very out of breath; this series of movements must happen often. There was a ding, and the elevator door opened. “After you,” Robin said.

Macaw rushed into the elevator for fear of getting wedged between Robin and the elevator entrance, followed immediately by getting crushed by the elevator doors. Robin followed more calmly, not seeming to have noticed Macaw’s hurry. Robin pushed the ground floor’s button and the doors slid shut. “Please don’t move around too much,” Macaw said quickly. “I, er, get a bit nauseous.”

“Okay!” Robin chirped. “So what’s that magazine you got?”

Macaw had nearly forgotten about it, and held it between them so they could both take a look. On the cover was a picture of a bird with all the colors of the rainbow, sitting on a lush jungle branch. “MACAW!” was written across the bottom.

Robin gasped, “You’re famous!”

“No, no,” Macaw corrected quickly. “This type of bird is called a macaw. I just happen to have that name.”

“Oh, you’re named after a bird, too!”

“I like collecting pictures of them. Adds a bit of color to my quarters.”

“Ooh, that sounds like a great idea! Do you think they’ll let me put pictures of robins in my quarters?”

“I’m sure you can, but be sure to take them down and put them away before cleaning day. They’ll take them down and throw them away if you leave them up.”

“Oh, no!”

“You’ll be fine if you’re careful. I know you can do it.”

“What about macaws?”

Macaw paused. “I… what?”

“What if I put pictures of macaws in my room?”

“Why… would you want to do that?”

Robin looked at him, seeming almost surprised by the question. “Because they’ll remind me of you,” he explained, as if it were obvious.

“…Oh,” Macaw said.

DING! The elevator said, and the doors opened. Robin bounded out, and Macaw followed him out to the front of the building. “My building is this way!” Robin stated.

“Mine is this way.” Macaw pointed the opposite way.

“Aw, okay.”

“After PT tomorrow morning, we can meet back here to discuss what sort of assignments we’d do well in together,” Macaw instructed; less like a leader and more like an experienced friend. A partner. “Think about your skills and make a list, if necessary. I’ll do the same, and we’ll compare notes.”

“Okay!” Robin cheered. He took Macaw’s hand and squeezed it gently. “See you later… partner.” He let go and zig-zagged down the street, arms waving over his head like those cartoon characters he remembered seeing when he was a child.

Macaw watched him go, then slowly looked at his hand. He covered his mouth with the magazine in his other hand and shook his head. Partner… yes. He had a partner now. A dumpy egg of a partner.

_His_ dumpy egg of a partner.

He chuckled to himself and walked back to his quarters. It seemed the Bishop was slyer than he let on, and the Rook was okay with that.

**Author's Note:**

> This could technically just be seen as friendship, with no romantic undertones, and I wouldn't be able to disagree with you. Maybe in future stories with these two, I'll actually get the romance flowing more smoothly. This isn't my realm of expertise, but I'd like to break into it a bit.  
> -  
> Anyway, what did you think? Please (please) leave a comment and tell me what you thought. I'll see you later. Until then!


End file.
